San Francisco
Part 6

Once the dishes were done, and put away, Spencer grabbed another two Coronas from the fridge, opened them, then stuck a lime wedge down the neck of each bottle. "Let's go back to the deck and you can tell me about yourself."

"Not much to tell," I said as I followed the tall dude out the back. "I don't windsurf or play piano... none of the cool kinda stuff you do. And I've only been overseas once... with the school swim team... we went to Cape Town, South Africa. That's where I met Kyle. He was totally awesome. Still is."

"Aaaaggghhhh!"

"What's the prob?"

"The lawn. Everytime I look at it I get the guilts. I hate mowing it. Anyway, you're here, so I've got an excuse to put it off 'til tomorrow."

"Tomorrow is often the busiest day of the year. That's a Spanish proverb. Did you know that? Anyway, I'll mow it if you like."

"I couldn't ask a guest to do that, Daniel. It's cool. I'll do it tomorrow."

"We'll do it tomorrow. Is it OK if I come here again tomorrow?"

"Sure. So tell me about yourself."

"Well, for starters, I like being naked. You wanna take off your shirt? It'll give me something to gawk at while I'm telling you about my boring life."

"Alright, then... shirts off. But the shorts stay on. OK?"

We sat bare-chested on the edge of the deck with our legs dangling over the side, swaying to and fro in sync with each other. I told Spencer about my buds, high school, the swim team, mom marrying Andy, my step bro Greg, Kyle visiting Tampa, and a whole bunch of other stuff.

"And you say your life is boring? Gimme a break, Daniel. Sounds pretty interesting to me. But you were kidding about the pedestrian crossing, right?"

"Nope. You got one around here?"

"Yeah, right," he laughed. "You're a pretty outrageous dude, you know that? But, hey, that's cool. I was beginning to think I was some kinda freak."

"So I'm a freak?"

"That's not what I meant. Hey, don't you doubt yourself sometimes? Y'know... feel like you're like a minority of one?"

"Yeah, sometimes. But I've got lots of buds, so that helps. And I talk to Pop a lot. I can talk to him about anything... about stuff I could never tell my mom."

"You've told him everything you just told me?"

"Yep. Sometimes he just shakes his head... not 'cause he disapproves or anything like that... he just gets blown away," I cracked. "It's weird, y'know. He writes these really hot stories, but it's mostly fiction. Then I start telling him about the stuff I do, and he can't fucking believe it."

"'Cause it's real life?"

"Guess so. So this MM dude. He doesn't know about you?"

"I'm not sure if he knows whether I'm gay or not. Once he asked me if Wicked Willie was my boyfriend. If his mom knows or suspects, she hasn't said anything. She lets him stay overnight here sometimes, so she isn't too worried... I think. Anyway, there are no kids his age around here, so he kinda hangs with me, and loves to play with Bugsy. My friends treat him pretty well... y'know, like one of the guys even though he's only thirteen."

"Has he seen you shirtless?"

"Yep."

"Does he gawk?"

"This is a beach house, Daniel. Shirtless guys around here is no biggie."

"So he gawks?"

"If he does, he doesn't make it as obvious as you do," he grinned, flashing his perfect teeth once more.

"Damn that smile of yours, Spencer. It's making me way fucking horny. Anyway, if MM asked you if Willie was your boyfriend that kinda says something. Don't you think?"

"It's not like that with MM. I've known him since he and his mom moved in next door. He was only two years old then. I've watched him grow up. I don't treat him like a boy. I treat him like a person. He's blonde like you, but with blue eyes, not brown... about the same height... 5' 8". Kinda skinny, though. Wicked smile. Very considerate and kind. Brain and mouth go at a hundred miles an hour. Looked after me during post-op. I had a hernia operation. Actually, two. I got a bit too active too soon after the first. Windsurfing, sailing. Y'know. Anyway, he told his mom that he was gonna take care of me while I was housebound. He doesn't have a dad, so I guess I'm like a father/bro to him."

"Sounds like a totally cool dude. And so do you."

"I'll warn you, Daniel... if you meet him, you won't get a word in edgewise."

"Anyway, I still think he knows you're gay. Why would he ask about Willie if he didn't know? He probably knows more than you think he does. Maybe he's curious. Maybe he's gay, too. Hmmm. Maybe even jealous of Willie."

"Think so? Nah. Anyway, if he wants to talk to me about it, he can. I'll leave that to him, though. You follow the '49ers?"

"'69ers."

"Tampa team?"

"Kinda... me and my buds. Hey, listen, Spencer, it's totally cool talking to you and everything... you're really interesting... honest... but... well, hey, can I say something? I'm kinda hanging to blow you."

"Are you always this romantic?"

"It's your aura thingy. I felt it at the restaurant. Woohoo! And anyway, you've got a great bod. It's totally... Huh? Romantic?"

"Never mind. Let's go to my room."

"No... I want you to play the piano while I'm blowing your fucking lights out. I've been thinking about it."

"You're kidding, right?"

"Nope... I wanna hear the music."

As we arrived at the Steinway, Spencer faced me, then placed both his hands on the sides of my head, framing my face, as he gave me a little kiss on the mouth. "Are you sure you wanna do this, Daniel?"

Yeah, right. How could anybody say no to the smile on that killer face? "If you hit a wrong note, I'll bite your fucking dick off."

Spencer kissed me again, but this time his tongue probed my open mouth, as mine did his. I moved my hands down to his hips and pulled his crotch against mine so that our boners were rubbing against each other. Time for action!

I slid down his body until I was on my knees, then pulled his shorts down his muscular legs. I took a moment to smell the bulge in his boxers, and allowed his warm, sexy scent to fill my lungs. Mmmmm! Then I rubbed my face around his hard, cotton-covered teen meat and drank in more of his delicious aroma. "How big is it?"

"You wanna find out?"

I slid his boxers down and watched his throbber jump out like a jack-in-the-box. "Woohoo! Gotta be seven."

"Almost."

"Oh, man! It's fucking gorgeous!" And it was. Whoa! Long, thick, straight, and cut, with a big, swollen, bulbous knob that was oozing pre-cum. My pink tongue shot out like a lizard's and scooped up the pearl of juice just as it was threatening to fall. "You taste nice." Then I lowered my face a little so that I could tongue his savory hangers. "You should bottle your scent, dude. It's as horny as all fucking hell. Does weird things to my brain."

"That explains everything."

"Huh?"

There wasn't much room between the pedals and the piano stool, but I managed to squeeze into the small space. As soon as I was wedged in position, and had sent my lips gliding over Spencer's cockhead, I heard him say, "It's no good, Daniel! I can't play a note while you're doing that to me. I can't concentrate!"

"PLAY!"

As my head bobbed up and down, and my tongue lashed his sensitive knob, I could hear brief patches of music, followed by regular pauses and a gasp or two. "Oh! Daniel!"

I took his monster outa my mouth and told him to keep playing. "Build up to one of those crescendo thingies or whatever the fuck you call 'em. Keep pounding those fucking keys, man!"

"This is absurd!"

"Cool. So is sex."

A soon as I heard the music again, I slid my tight lips down the length of Spencer's rock-hard boner once more, and used one hand to fondle his heavy, juice-filled balls. And as the intensity of his delicious, spicy flavor grew in my mouth, so did the intensity of the music. His fingers must've been belting that fucking keyboard for all they were worth. Hey, who needed an earthquake?

Eventually, I heard what sounded like one of those crescendo thingies. Pound! Pound! Pound! Whoa! I thought the whole fucking weight of that grand piano was gonna collapse on top of me. Meantime, his whopper stiffened and began to go totally crazy like some hyperactive python trapped in a bag. Then a truckload of thick, sticky juice filled my mouth. Mmmm! Yum! I was still aware of the hammers thumping the fuck outa the wire strings but my main focus was on trying to swallow the avalanche of Spencer juice that was exploding like a bunch of Saddam's Scuds aimed at Tel Aviv. And above all the noise of my gagging and swallowing, and the constantly pounding piano, I could still hear Spencer screaming his fucking lungs out. "Aaaaggghhh!!!"

When it was all over, it was like the eerie silence that immediately followed a major catastrophe. Only the sound of our breathing and the surf from across the way could be heard.

"Shit!"

"What?"

"MM! He's gonna think I've gone crazy or something. Quick! Get dressed! He'll be here any second wondering what the hell happened!"

"What was that tune you were playing?" I asked as I quickly pulled on my shorts.

"Tune? That wasn't a tune, Daniel. That was... I dunno what it was. Five on the Richter scale, probably."

"Is everything OK?" Spencer and I turned toward the voice, and saw the blonde-haired MM standing in the doorway. "Oh... sorry... I didn't realize you had company."

"No problem, MM. This is my friend Daniel. He's visiting from Florida."

"Hi. Pleased to meet you," the young dude beamed as he shook my hand. "I heard all this noise. Is that some kinda new music you learned, Spencer? Pretty loud. And you were singing. Well, kinda singing. More like yelling. Anyway, I'm glad everything's OK. You work out, Daniel? You look like you do. Wow! I try to buff up but nothing happens. I look like a pretzel no matter how hard I try. So how do you get your chest to look like that? It's awesome. Bet you've got a whole bunch of girlfriends, hey."

"MM!" Spencer scolded. "Put the brakes on. OK?"

"Sorry."

"That's OK," I smiled. "Thanks for the compliments, MM. Yeah, I work out a bit... nothing too serious. And I'm on the school swim team."

"Cool! Can you show me your muscles? Y'know... like with the flex thing? I just wanna see... if that's OK with you, I mean."

"Sure. No prob."

Me? Show off? Hello? Within a millisecond I was parading around the room like some peacock in heat, puffing out my chest, bending my arms, popping my biceps, rippling my lats, flattening my sixpack, flexing my thighs and calves, all to the ongoing "oohing" and "aahing" of an appreciative thirteen year old admirer... not to mention Spencer.

"Jeez!" the kid gasped as I finished my routine, "that is soooooo cooooool! I wish I could look like that."

"Hey, dude, you look pretty cool yourself. Spencer's been telling me all about you, and you sound like a way cool guy to me. Totally stellar. So don't worry about the muscles. OK? Give it a couple more years."

"You staying in San Francisco long?"

"Uh... not sure. Maybe a week. I'll be here tomorrow, though... mowing the lawn. By the way, Spencer, I'd better call the hotel to see if Pop's back yet. He doesn't know where I am, and he kinda worries."

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